Black Prince
by calicokitty111
Summary: A thousand year old legacy threatens to tear the world apart in war. Azuron, the Black Prince, has escaped Tartarus, and is on the run, and individuals on all sides, fates determined by the will of the cards, are coming to a collision course. Onlu time will tell who can seize the throne of equestrian through blood and fire. But what is beyond the continent? The Old Gods Are
1. Chapter 1

Azure was panting on his knees. Behind him, the ground was split open, lava and fire flowing freely. He was in some sort of forest, which as now on fire, several trees already consumed by the inferno. He was in the Everfree. Luckily, in his weakened state, there were no Timberwolves nearby, or if there were they fled the inferno. Hydras and Chimeras were also noticeably absent from his area. He grabbed a thick branch and pulled himself to his feet, a monumental task for him, and then he barely stood to his feet, feeling the bitter taste of bile pile up into his throat; he had to rest soon, and he couldn't handle the stress of moving to far.

Fighting to stay conscious, he released the branch and dizzily stumbled in a random direction. There was nothing but trees nearby, dark trees with ash-black bark and ugly, twisted branches resembling hags. The gaping holes with protruding branches reminding him of teeth seemed to be laughing at him. He growled and kept moving; he couldn't stop. Celestia no doubt had seen the explosion, and it wouldn't take long for her to appear and try to finish him once and for all, and he wasn't strong enough to fight her off due to how much energy it took to break from tartarus. So he chose a random direction and limped on his good leg.

He didn't know how long he had been in Tartarus; ever since he had defeated Namara he had been in a daze. He had tried to plan for some sort of vengeance, but he didn't know what he could do yet. He couldn't just kill her; he probably wouldn't be able to take the throne and he didn't know who would. He also didn't want an entire nation after his head, no matter how powerful he was. It would also make him look like a power-hungry tyrant, and he couldn't have that. No, she had to attack first.

Out of instinct, he clutched the hilt of the sword he forged in Tartarus. It was jagged like a tooth, about two feet long, forged from the pig iron that flowed through the hellscape's lava streams, and wickedly sharp; akin to the trophy a beast slayer would dislodge from the mouth of an Elder Hydra. It's sheath was made from the skin of a large, scaly creature resembling a snake with legs, and the hilt was made from it's bone. It's skin was strong, like stone, and he had only managed to defeat it with his magic. It had reminded him of the Old Legends he had read in the Canterlot Library; the stories about Halaal, the three headed serpent that represented plague and he had killed it, and now wore the rest of it's pelt as a garb over his tattered clothes.

The woods began to clear around one singular tree, large and fat, wide around the base. A single open window was on the side, framed with wood. Glowing lights and light grew fumes floated lazily from it like clouds. He heard chanting and the flipping of pages rapidly. _A witch, no doubt_. He drew his blade and approached, hoping to clear out this nest of sedition before it would become a threat to the locals, equestrian or not.

He kicked down the door and spotted something he would not soon forget. There was no witch, but a Zebra Shaman, who wore simple charms around her neck and was stirring a large pot of stew, nothing more. Nevertheless, he drew his sword to be safe. She looked at him as if she had been expecting him, and then sat down on a stool. "The young Prince has made his escape, and now he seeks to determine his fate. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Azuron grumbled. "I thought this was a witch's den. It seems I was wrong. I will leave you to your…" he looked at the odd stew in the pot, a mix of wild greens and mushrooms in a simple broth, "Dinner."

She nodded knowingly, but raised a hoof. "I may have the answers you seek, if you are willing to stay. It can become quite lonely in these woods, and I could calm your dismay."

Azuron shook his head. "You are a simple soothsayer and shaman, but what I seek may just be outside of your reach. I have done more than you could predict, and I have no doubt that you would have trouble predicting what is yet to come. You know nothing of me. This 'prince' title, it means nothing, at least for me. I am prince of nothing."

She shook her head. "Maybe not now, but you are the master of your own destiny. Your triumphs can still bring out the best in thee."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Interesting words, coming from a soothsayer. Aren't you supposed to predict my destiny? _What the gods entail? _I would think that any soothsayer would say otherwise."

"I am not just any soothsayer."

Azuron raised his eyebrow, not out of surprise, but more out of sarcasm. "Then read my future, Soothsayer. Please, enlighten me." He sat down on a stool and looked at her expectantly.

She pulled out a deck of cards, and spread them on the table, backs up. "Choose five, and you shall see specks of your future." He reached his hand out, chose five far from each other, and gave them to her. She flipped them over and showed them to him; A pony cutting the head off of another pony wearing a crown, a ship sailing the seas, a pony weilding a banner in one hoof and a sword in the other, a pony holding the head of a hydra, and a pony holding the hoof of another pony in an embrace. He eyed the last one curiously, but said nothing.

"The Kingslayer Card; an unnerving symbol of drastic change executed by one person. This does not always mean the assassination of a monarch, as many interpret, but it can mean any form of violent change, like genocide or battles of untold proportions, although I believe the traditional, more obvious definition is appropriate here."

He was surprised with the last statement. It seemed that this soothsayer knew more than he had expected. She gave him a look that screamed _I told you so._

"The Travelers Card; a symbol of a great odyssey. You shall make a harrowing trek to a far away or forgotten land; filled with nameless beasts and unknown peoples; your journey, to a new life."

She put the card with the kingslayer card and kept it beside the original deck. She then pulled the card with the sword and banner wielding pony. "The Conqueror's Card; a symbol of war, strife and change in leadership, whether that be rebellion or annexation. I cannot tell you who, where or when, but I can tell you that you will one day unite a great many people under your reign. You will be a kingmaker and a kingslayer: a dangerous combination."

She pulled up the card of the pony holding the head of a hydra. "The Hero Card; a symbol of one who protects the innocent and slays evil. I believe you may have already fulfilled this, but I also believe this card is not finished. Tartarus is filled with monsters, villains and untold horrors, but they shall trail you, for you to fulfill your destiny."

She pulled the last card forward. "The lover card. Cliche, yes, I know." She gave him a teasing look. "But I know this; love comes to those who don't seek it actively. And I also know these cards often happen in order. One day, once you fulfill your destiny, the one that you choose, you will find love in the most unlikely of places. But you must first fight through trials and tribulations. I will not tell you what to do, or how to do it; I am as clueless in that aspect as you are, but all that is certain is that you have a long road ahead of you."

He sat up. "That figures. While I am not thoroughly convinced, your words have… comforted me, if that makes any sense. And why did you stop rhyming?"

She chuckled. "It's tedious. Rhyming was often a must for shamans in my homeland, but that was a lifetime ago. Now I am but a simple soothsayer and herbalist. I help the townsfolk with their more unusual problems."

He nodded respectfully and stood up, stretching. His body was a lot less sore now, although his head still felt like someone had dropped a bag of bricks on it. "Thank you for your hospitality, shaman. What may I call you?"

She smiled with that knowing look of hers. "Call me Zecora," she said, her thick accent playing with the word. "Why not join me for dinner? The stew is simple, but filling and appetizing."

"No thank you, I would hate to put you in danger. I am, let's say, being hunted for lack of a better term. But thank you for your… predictions. I will make sure I take those into consideration."

Before he could turn around, she held his hand and pressed the cards gently into his palm with her hoof. "Take them,'' she said, "you will need them more than I." Azuron didn't even bother to question her this time, knowing that she was wise. He turned and left the hut into the night. She sighed, and went to grab a bowl of stew. "Damn", she said, "It's cold."


	2. Chapter 2

It was around four or five now, and the sun was far behind him now, and he had reached the outskirts of the small backwater town. The Griffons who inhabited it stared at his illusion tensely, as if they expected him to cause trouble. He could see why; ever since the Dragon-Griffonian war, tens of thousands of griffons flocket to safety in Equestria. While it was much more accepting of foreigners _now _(or so the shopkeep had said), it hadn't always been. Griffons feared for their independence and safety, and even when they were granted the hinterlands fifteen years ago by Celestia, they were often boycotted by ponies and segregated in towns, schools and even places of worship, with the Griffons receiving the short end of the stick with rundown establishments and sub-par services. Looking like a pony probably didn't garner him much trust.

As he walked past the town hall, a miserable two story house that looked like it had seen much better days, he saw a Canterlot Imperial Officer and two subordinate guards talking to an elderly griffon, a female with a peg-leg, an eye sewn shut, and a nasty attitude smoking a pipe.

"We just want to know if anything unusual is happening here, ma'am, _anyone_ unusual in particular." The officer said, sounding frustrated, "once we know that we'll leave."

The Old griffon just sneered. "We been tellin y'all that them witches been in the swamps for ages, and y'all done nothing. But now that some critter's causin' trouble, you come scrambling to us like we should know what's happenin'. I ain't got nothin' to say to y'all till you kill them godsforsaken witches!" She spat on the muddy ground next to the porch, took another puff of the pipe, and continued to give the officers a peace of her mind. "Now get of my damn porch before I shove my pipe up your ass and kick y'all off."

The officer became surprised, then began to fume. "I've tried to be reasonable with you, but since you can't cooperate, I'll have you arrested for harboring a fugitive. I'll be back in two days with my superiors, ready to have you in chains. Maybe then we'll see how much you blather about these fairy tales about _witches_", the officer sneered sarcastically, "You've been nothing but a pain in my ass anyway." The officer motioned with his head to follow, and his subordinates trotted after him, the townsfolk jeering and shouting slurs and insults. One of the more drunk griffons, an older male with a half-empty ale bottle in one hand and a scythe in the other looked ready to kill someone.

He shook his head and began to walk past the town hall, then he remembered the old griffon female mentioning something about witches. Vile creatures they were; maybe if he helped them out by clearing out a nest of them, he could get some coin. That was his plan in the first place anyway…

He approached the rickety porch of the town hall, ready to talk business, when the old griffon eyed him suspiciously and began walking down the porch, still smoking her pipe. "I'll tell ya what I told them guards. We don't want yer kind here.", she sounded more annoyed than angry, though. "We got enough trouble as it is, we don't need no more "

He coughed into his hand… hoof. Illusion, right, and gave her a sincere look. "I'm not here to cause trouble, ma'am. I just heard about your witch issue and couldn't help but become curious."

She softened here gaze and took another draw from the pipe. "So, ye believe in witches, boy? What do ya know about 'em, huh?" She was a bit critical, but he didn't blame her. He would have been if he was in her shoes.

"I don't just believe in them.", he said calmly. "I've witnessed them; their horror, their ruthlessness. My entire family was slaughtered like pigs right in front of me." He lied. He hated lying, but what the old griffon didn't know would kill her, and he hated witches all the same. "I was lucky; I managed to stab the soulless bitch in the chest with a fire poker, but I got nothing to show for it now but a few scars from all of the hags i've killed since. I'll take care of them for you, if you want."

The old griffon raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll be damned; there is a god." She said, surprised. "Tell you what; you kill those pieces of shit, and we'll give you all the gold we can spare. Come inside, and we can talk more."

She hobbled back up the steps and pushed the door open; the inside looked much better than the outside, with a fire burning in the stone chimney pit and a stew bubbling on the rack above it. A bearskin rug served as a rug for an old coffee table with a few opened ale bottles and a deck of cards. A few male griffons were playing some game he didn't recognise, with some old sheep's knuckle bones being used as chips. One of them looked up and narrowed his eyes.

"Despoina, why in tarnation do we have a pony in here? We don't need more trouble!" His voice was old and haggard, and he looked tired; Azuran presumed he was her husband. "Can it, Paethon. He's here to help. Sit down at the table… what do we call you?"

"Call me Onyx,'' he replied.

She shrugged, "Sit at the table with my husband and his friends, and make yourself comfortable while I get my sons. The fieldwork can wait." She hobbled back out, and all of the male griffons at the table gave him irritated looks. "So, you a traveller?", one of them said, a male with brown feathers, light brown fur and white feathers around his face. "We don't get many ponies 'round these parts, except through the caravans movin' from Tall Tale to Fillydelphia."

"I'm a traveller… of sorts." He replied.

Paethon shook his head, "I don't know why you came here traveller, but your timing couldn't have been better. We got the damn guards all over us since that explosion hit down south, but they haven't dealt with the witch problem since it popped up thirty years back, soon after we hustled into the area. Been terrorizin' us since; haven't had much peace."

"Let me guess, the war with the dragons?", Azuron/Onyx guessed nonchalantly.

The old griffon nodded. "Some Griffon settlers wanted to mine the dragon islands. Long story short; the dragons invaded thirty years ago. We outnumbered them a hundred ta one but they were brutal, tough as nails and could dish out as much damage as ten griffons. The king and his kid died in battle, and the whole damn kingdom split up into the baronies. We pushed em back as united griffons at the battle of many names, but then the whole 'alliance' thing came crashing down and the Barons been fighting each other ever since."

Azuron/Onyx raised an eyebrow. "You fight in the war?"

The old griffon snorted. A few others chuckled. "A better question would be who _didn't _fight, but yeah, I fought. I fired one of the fancy new ballistae when they came out. Racked up ten kills, then when my service was up I got the hell out of Griffonia and sailed here, met me wife and never looked back. Had me three sons after that, tis a miracle I still have me two eldest."

"Why didn't you stay? It was your homeland, after all."

He began to shuffle the cards and pass them out to his buddies. "Didn't want to start a family in that shit hole. Ever since the Golden Griffon Jewels were lost, the place went to hell. Now people are killing each other, raiding, pillaging, and the guards can't do shit. At least this place is a bit calm, even with the witches." As he finished passing out the cards and prepping the pot, Despoina came back in with two younger griffons; one with a dark brown coat and all-round white feathers and one with a light brown coat with bluish feathers. "These are my sons; Triton…". She said, pointing at the griffon with the brown coat and white feathers, "And this is Grimtail.", she pointed to the larger, blue feathered griffon, who nodded in greeting. "Now, let's talk business. The witches are thought to be somewhere in the swamps east of here. Kill 'em, bring me their heads, and you'll get your pay." She plopped a massive bag on the table. "There is two hundred bits in this bag. You'll ge five bags once the job is done." Her sons gave her a look. "Ma, what about Astraea? We can't leave 'er in that hellhole?"

"Triton, ya' know she's either dead or a witch by now."

"Aunt Astraea was the toughest woman I ever knew. There's no way she's a witch! And what about Ophion? He's probably still there."

"Quiet, Triton. Ya know what them witches do. They're dead, I tell ya, Dead! Best we can do now is burn that wretched place and move on with our lives."

Triton gave a despondent nod and slouched, knowing he was beat. Nobody piped up after that, most of the gamblers being too forlorn to say anything, and her husband looked just as sad. "Kill 'em, and then you can get paid."

Azuran nodded and walked out the door, into the dark street, and into the tavern. He needed a plan and some weapons.


	3. Message

**Just a Quick Message for You guys.**

**1\. I'm not good at writing long chapters. I never have been. If you all have suggestions on how to make them longer, leave them in a review.**

**2\. Please review, even if it's criticism. I want to know how I can improve my work.**

**3\. I have a World Anvil account, which allows me to post tidbits of lore, information about the fantasy world, and other misc info on things inside my stories as well as In the extended lore. If you don't mind spoilers, go to and Look for GandalftheGay. I'll be posting on the things I write in the story.**

**Thanks again.**

**Connor McCartney (Calicokitty111)**


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